Hetalia: The Last Pastabender
by PandaStarz
Summary: Germany, the banished prince of the Fire Nation, must capture the Avatar in order to regain his honor. But will he really be able to abduct this pasta-loving moron? Avatar-themed.
1. The Man in the Tomato Box

'I'd set sail nearly three years ago, enduring countless hardships – starving for days in the middle of the ocean after getting attacked by giant tiger-eels, trekking through the blistering Earth Kingdom deserts, searching ever _Verdammt_ air temple I could find, getting stranded on _several_ deserted islands – yet after all this time the Avatar has still eluded me. Lately I've been risking frostbite in the South Pole, the final continent in my search.

'However I, Prince Ludwig, _will_ take my rightful place on the Fire Nation throne and regain my honor by capturing the Avatar!'

The words of his last journal entry – it was _not_ a _diary_! – came drifting back to Germany as he trudged through snow and skidded over ice. Just his luck; he was trekking right through the beginnings of a blizzard. Snow swirled around him to the point where he couldn't see where he was going. He was seriously starting to regret leaving his crew behind at the shore so that he could search this land alone. Eventually he became so lost that he walked straight into a river – and was carried away by the current.

"What the - ?"

Germany flailed in the water as it pulled him along faster and faster, and was still blinded by the snow flurries that spiraled around him. Something hard hit him in the chest and the little breath he had was knocked right out of him. Recognizing that it was a large chunk of floating ice he'd slammed into, he grabbed onto it like a life preserver, heaving himself up on top. Sopping wet, he shook the water out of his hair, then shrugged off his satchel – it was _not_ a _purse_! - so that it wouldn't weigh him down if he were to fall in again.

That was Ludwig, keeping his cool even in situations as dire as –

"Ack! A polar bear!"

Germany was so startled when he saw the non-hybrid creature milling along several yards away that he fell back into the water with a 'plop!' The river dragged him along with a vengeance. Shortly afterwards, a large rock loomed ahead, and the German was powerless to keep himself from slamming into it. All he could do was turn his head before –

_Blam!_

And the polar bear just shook its furry white head at the idiot human and walked – if polar bears can walk - away.

* * *

><p><em>I'm… alive?<em> His numb, gloved fingers twitched minutely in response. Yes, he was alive. But barely.

Germany pulled himself up onto his elbows to take stock of the situation:

He was lost. Looking around, he saw nothing but a landscape of ice and snow.

He'd lost his pack. Therefore no food, no tent, no blankets, no compass, no nothin'.

His head hurt. He'd slammed it pretty hard.

He was cold. He couldn't even feel his toes anymore.

He was alone. Nobody was looking for him.

Yes, he was alive. But somehow, he found a small part of himself wishing that he wasn't. Pulling off his gloves, he breathed a soft stream of fire to prevent them from freezing.

At least it had stopped snowing. That was something, right? RIGHT?

* * *

><p>He was standing before a three-story-tall sphere of ice. And for some strange reason, he felt compelled to crack it open.<p>

It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

So after pounding on the same spot with his fists as hard as he could for twenty minutes straight, a tiny crack appeared in the ice. Luckily for him, it was a hairline crack that spread and shattered the entire thing, which came falling down like an overturned bucket of water.

Germany shielded his eyes from the explosion, and when he did look he was shocked to see –

"A box of tomatoes?"

Bewilderment and disappointment – although he wasn't sure he should be disappointed, as he hadn't expected there to be a box of anything in the middle of nowhere – settled inside Germany like an anchor being suddenly released.

"Aaack! That's right! Nothing to see here, I'm just a box of tomatoes – wait! Did you hear that Romano? There's someone here to rescue us! We're saved!"

Warily, Germany rapped on the wooden box. "_Allo_? Is someone in there?" he asked uselessly.

"No! No-one's in here! This is just a tomato box– I mean yes! Help!"

_What the…? _Germany seemed to be thinking that a lot lately.

Cautiously he opened the box. As soon as he loosened the lid, a brown mop of hair sprang up. The man's eyes were closed, and his wide grin bordered on idiotic. A single curl escaped his head, and in his excitement, it shot straight up.

"Wh-Who are you?" Germany questioned, cocking his pistol. "State your name!"

"I-Italy Veneziano!" the man addressed himself shakily, hopping out of the box at lightning speed to grab onto Germany's leg. "Aaah! Please don't shoot! I'm too young to die!" he whined.

Not knowing what to make of the strange man, Germany lowered his weapon. He didn't put it away, however. _Just look at the way he keeps his eyes closed all the time! He's hiding something, I know it! He's probably a spy, just like the guy who tried to arrest my dog..._

Er, some stories are better left untold.

There were more important matters at hand. "Do you know of a way to get back north?" the German inquired.

"Nope," the Italian said, instantly brightening. Germany face-palmed. _Of course not. _

"But Romano can take us anywhere!" Italy finished. He then executed an airbending move, effectively crumbling the wall of ice behind him. _I've never seen that style of bending before. I knew he was a spy! Hold on – who's Romano?_

The ice fell away like dropping a curtain, to reveal –

"Aaach! _Mein gott!_ It's a big fluffy monster!"

"No! Don't shoot!" Italy said, leaping in front of Germany's once-again raised pistol. "That's Romano! He's a magical flying sky bison that can take you anywhere in the world!" he finished proudly.

Is this… _thing_… your pet?" This was _much_ scarier than the polar bear.

The big fluffy monster in question reared its head, experimentally moving its gigantic limbs as if they'd been rooted in place for a long time. Italy bounded over to it, stroking its fur affectionately. "No, silly!" the Italian chastised playfully. Roaring loudly, the bison gave Italy a look that could've smited him to the ground.

Stop touching me.

Italy didn't notice however, and kept touching him.

"Romano," the Italian continued, "is my brother."


	2. The Idiot Returns

A/N: I wasn't sure about this story at first, but after all the wonderful positive feedback, I know I'm going to see it through to the end! (^-^)

Thank you, world!

And did I mention this story features Nyotalia?

* * *

><p>America sighed dramatically, twirling her hair with a delicate finger.<p>

"Iggy~" she asked as her brother took a seat next to her. They were perched on the wall of ice that ringed the village, watching the ocean.

The blond turned his head to her, cocking an eyebrow.

"When do I get to learn waterbending for real? This village is so _lame_! Can't we _go_ somewhere?" The American frowned, tugging at a curl as she watched her brother with imploring eyes.

"_Honestly_ Amelia, won't you ever shut up? It's not like we can just leave the Southern Water Tribe defenseless without a man like me to protect it," he declared, climbing atop his 'fort' to proudly overlook the sea. America rolled her eyes at this, and losing interest in his lecture, began examining her fingernails.

"What are you talking about? We both know _I'm_ the hero! How many times have I saved your - !"

"Besides that," England interrupted hastily, "even if we were to leave – and had good cause, mind you – how would we even get across the ocean?" Amelia frowned a little, twisting her hands this way and that to see her nails from a better angle. As she did so, the waves her feet dangled over grew in size.

"The only place to study waterbending properly is at the _Northern_ Water Tribe _on the other side of the world,_" England continued. The waves grew higher and higher. "I doubt a canoe would get us there – Ack!" England's monologue abruptly ended with a face full of icy seawater.

The blonde looked up at her brother. "Did I do that? Oops," she said unapologetically.

"Hey, watch where you're bending, you twit! No! Sorry, sorry – don't cry! I'd forgotten how sensitive you are."

With a pout and a glare, Amelia muttered, "I'm not _sensitive_. I just don't like it when you yell at me." She turned away from him suddenly, focusing on something in the distance. "There's an old Fire Navy ship down that way, you know. I bet I could…"

"Oh, no you wouldn't! I refuse to allow my little sister to commandeer – Where are you going? Hey! Come back here! Wait!" Hopping off of his 'fort', he started to run after her. "What's that brat up to now?" he wondered.

"Hahahahaha!" America laughed haughtily, prancing away. "You'll never catch me! I'm the hero! That's a girl!"

He didn't catch her.

* * *

><p>"Just how can a ten ton fluffy beast be your <em>brother<em>? Please tell me you're not related by blood," Germany said, trying to figure a way to climb on.

"We are," the Italian cheerfully affirmed, giving the taller man a boost with his airbending. Germany cast a look at the bison, then at Italy, then back at the bison, then back to Italy…

"You see it's a very long story." Luckily, the Italian had an affinity for long stories. The German did not, however, although no-one ever cared to ask _him_ about anything. "But a long time ago, a witch cast a spell on Romano and me. Romano said he wanted to travel the world, and I said I wanted to settle down for a while somewhere that smelled like tomatoes."

He hopped up onto Romano easily, with an airbending-enhanced jump.

Germany looked at the bison, then at Italy, then at the bison again, then back to Italy… _That explains… but a witch…? Tomato box…_ Germany's thoughts no longer made sense.

Ignoring – or perhaps oblivious to – Germany's stupor, Italy grabbed Romano's reins. "Fly!"

The bison stayed put, growling.

"Soar! Ascend!" Italy tried.

Germany sluggishly turned his thoughts back to the present. "Maybe he has some sort of code phrase. Yip, yip!" he invented.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Italy asked when Romano still didn't budge.

"It sometimes works when I'm trying to get my dogs to cooperate," Germany explained awkwardly.

"Cooperate with what?" Italy frowned.

"Er, nothing."

"C'mon, Romano! _Vamanos!_" Italy tried again.

"Let's get to it! I know that we can do it!" Germany said loudly in a gruff voice.

Italy turned halfway around just to stare at him. If it's possible to stare with your eyes closed, that is. Romano took the opportunity to throw Germany off – having already been insulted by being called a fluffy beast. Fluffy, maybe. But 'beast' was a no-no. Romano growled softly, shooting daggers at Germany's back.

You creep.

Pushing himself up out of the snow, Germany defended himself from Romano's unspoken statement. "I was only quoting Dora!" he snapped.

"Up, up and away!" Italy shouted as soon as a disgruntled Germany climbed back on. With a grunt, the bison moved slowly at first, then with a tremendous roar that sounded to Germany like a string of profanities, Romano took to the skies.

Awed, Germany exclaimed, "I knew he could do it all along!"

Just moments later, Prince Ludwig was hurtling toward Earth like a sack of potatoes.

You creep.

* * *

><p>Both England and America eventually ended up on the old, abandoned Fire Navy ship.<p>

As they walked, a floorboard creaked ominously behind them. Grabbing onto her brother, America moaned, "What was that? It's a ghost! I know it's a ghost! Uwwaaaah! Scaryyyy!"

"Calm down, will you? Ghosts aren't that scary, even if there was one on this ship. Isn't that right Ms. Unicorn?" England asked, petting thin air.

"Waaahhaaaahaaaa! An imaginary unicorn! Scaryyyyy~!"

Just as England prepared to make a witty comeback, he slipped on a banana peel and slid on one foot all the way down the corridor. He then fell forward and did a face plant.

"I give that a perfect ten," America congratulated, talking around the large chunk of banana in her mouth.

"Mmrph," came England's angry yet muffled reply. Just then, a high-pitched alarm bell split the air. "What is that?" England asked, picking himself up. "An alarm? I knew we shouldn't have come on board, that's why this place is forbid – "

"Aaaah! It's a ghost! It's a ghost! It's gonna eat us! IT'S GONNA EAT US!"

"Will you relax? Everyone knows that ghosts don't have lips."

She couldn't argue with _that_ logic.

"Blast!" England swore, examining something near his feet. "Looks like you made me trip a wire."

"I didn't _make_ you," America said, swallowing the last of her banana, "you're just clumsy."

"Well for _whatever_ reason, this ship was obviously booby-trapped, and we've walked right into it."

"You walked into it," she corrected under her breath.

"We've done it now!" England panicked, glancing out a window to see a flare rise into the sky.

"_You've_ done it," she amended.

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to do _you_!"

"_Oooh_," America taunted, making kissy faces. "Your imaginary friends not good enough for you? Hahahahaha!"

With some difficulty, he ignored that statement. "C'mon, we've got to get off this ship. The Fire Nation has probably been alerted to our location." He walked over to Amelia and tugged her sleeve. The second banana she'd been peeling fell out of her hand. "Let's g- OW!"

Oh clumsy, clumsy England.

"I'm the hero-girl!"

* * *

><p>Italy rubbed the giant boo-boo on Germany's head as they soared over the clouds on Romano. "Onii-chan gets a little excited sometimes," he apologized.<p>

"It's alright," Germany muttered awkwardly.

"Hey, what's that? A shooting star?"

"In the middle of the day?"

"Hm. Must be fireworks then!" Italy said, clapping his hands together excitedly.

Germany's brow creased._ It looks like some sort of flare. There could be trouble up ahead…_

"Romano, head for that sparkly thing!" Italy said, pointing.

What do you think I am? A taxi?

"Please~"

"The bison turned grumpily, headed in the direction of the sparkly thing.

"Thanks, Romano nii-chan~!"

Rawr.


	3. The Southern Tomato Temple

A/N: Another update! The chapter's still not quite finished yet. Which is really a shame. I haven't even introduced 'Momo' (Mystery character) yet. Or the witch I mentioned last chapter... hmmm... I should write that...

Hetalia: The Last Pastabender – Chapter 3 – Part 1 - The Southern Tomato Temple

* * *

><p>It was a face-off.<p>

Or at least it would've been, had either party been aware of what was going on.

As Romano descended, America and England came running out onto the deck of the abandoned ship. Germany and Italy dismounted as the brother and sister hopped off the deck into the soft snow on the ground.

Confused green eyes met bewildered blue eyes, and closed brown eyes met surprised… _other_ blue eyes. A long silence stretched between them. Which Italy broke, of course.

"Veh~!"

The Italian stepped forward, big, goofy grin in place. Germany face-palmed at this behavior. His companion knew nothing of tact. Contrary to the German's expectations, the blonde stepped forward.

"Hi!" she said cheerily, starting forward with her hand extended. England held her back.

"Did you come to see the fireworks, too?" Italy asked.

"Er, no," England said quickly, taking his sister by the arm and leading her away from the scene. "We were just leaving. Good day."

America smiled and waved at Italy as she was pulled away.

* * *

><p>Germany walked up to Italy, who was still grinning and waving after the girl. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he thought, <em>What am I going to do with this guy? The natural course would be to leave him behind and continue my search elsewhere. However…<em>

He cast a look at Italy's still-grinning face. The girl was long gone by now, although he continued to wave like an idiot. _Somehow I doubt this guy would survive for very long in the arctic on his own. _

Sighing, Germany reasoned that he could think it over later.

It was only when Italy looked up at him that the German realized his hand had been on Italy's shoulder for a long time. Hastily retracting it, he scrambled for something to say to fill the awkward moment. Luckily, he could count on Italy to fill it for him.

"Pasta~!"

* * *

><p>"Iggy why'd you run away so quickly back there? That boy looked nice…" America asked with a dreamy twinkle as England continued to pull her along. England didn't answer, not stopping until they were all the way back safely inside their igloo.<p>

"Stay away from those guys, Amelia," England said suddenly, pacing.

"Whyyyyy?"

"You saw the way that boy kept his eyes closed all the time. It's unnatural; he's definitely hiding something, showing up out of nowhere like that." America opened her mouth to argue, but England bitterly continued, "And did you see the way they were dressed? Who wears light clothes like that in the freezing cold! And the other guy's coat looked Fire Nation to me!"

Amelia opened her mouth, but her brother started again vehemently, "And the blond one looked suspicious too. Did you see his eyes? They're constantly narrowed in concentration, like he's imagining what he wants to do to children." At this, America fixed her brother with a 'You're-taking-this-wayyy-too-far' glare, and as a rebuttal formed on her lips, he said, "And what was that furry thing they were riding on? I could have sworn I saw it fly! They're witches, Amelia, using black magic! And _I know_ black magic!" At this she just rolled her eyes. "They're witches, I tell you! Evil, Fire Nation witches, and…"

England's rant was interrupted by shouting outside.

"Veh! Germany, what a cute little village, the houses are all made out of ice! Germany, look, a snow fort just collapsed! It's just a big pile of snow now!" America laughed heartily when her brother made what she called his 'constipated face'. His eyebrows knitted together, his mouth formed an 'O' shape and his stare was completely blank, as though the irises had vanished into thin air. "Germany, Germany, can we make a snow man? Can we, Germany?"

"No!" the voice was gruff and commanding. "And keep your voice down! You'll wake everyone in the area!"

"But Germany, it's only four o' clock!"

"Stop saying my name so often! I told you not to wear it out!" the voice boomed.

The rest of the conversation was lost on England, as he was still wearing his constipated face and fretting over the collapse of his 'fort'. Slowly, he drifted outside, and made a 'gah!' face when he saw the pair standing in front of his igloo.

"Gah!"

"Veh!"

"Allo."

* * *

><p>America stepped out of the igloo. "What is all this commotion out here? And why isn't it about me?" she demanded.<p>

"Get back inside, Amelia," England warned, "There's no need to socialize with these – "

The American completely ignored him, instead appearing at Italy's side to flirt with him. "You must be so _cold_ out here, I can tell you're freezing," she fretted, cutting off her brother's lecture. Smoothing his exotic shirt she purred, "I can tell you're not from around here. It takes time to get used to the temperature, you know! Come inside for dinner!"

"Thanks!" he returned, smiling. "I have been feeling a little cold since I was trapped in that ice. BY any chance will there be pasta?" he asked as she led him inside. Shrugging his broad shoulders, the German followed. England would have protested, but then he caught sight of the collapsed snow 'fort' he'd built and stood transfixed at the sight.

"Trapped in ice, hm? That's so interesting," she said, not having listened to a word Italy had said. "Pasta? Never heard of it. Although I did make seal gut hamburgers! My own invention! Hahaha!" She moved to make Italy a plate as the German ducked his head through the doorway.

Italy froze. _Never heard of… pasta…?_

He sank to his knees, clawed out his face, banged his head on the wall, ran around the room screaming like an idiot, and finally wailed, "GERMANY! The world… has changed… Pasta is gone forever!"

The German responded gruffly, "Pasta? Is that anything like Wurst?"

The Italian could have died. He could have died right then and there. He was absolutely lost. A world without pasta was like… a world without cookies. In noodle form.

_NOOOOO!_


End file.
